


Bass Clef

by theshyscorpion



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Fem!Trebles, Genderbending, M/M, Male!Bellas, genderbent!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshyscorpion/pseuds/theshyscorpion
Summary: Genderbend!AU. Beckham Mitchell is headed (reluctantly) to Barden University. There he meets Cole Beale, Aubrey Posen, and Jessie Swanson, and joins the Barden Bellums. He learns a lot about himself, and music, along the way.





	Bass Clef

**Author's Note:**

> Genderbent!AUs are something I love, and Pitch Perfect only has a few, so I wrote one. Honestly? This is the longest thing I've ever written. Enjoy!

 

Beckham finessed the controls of his computer, editing the track he'd been working on for a few days. He packed away his laptop, getting into the taxi that would take him to Barden University. On the ride over, his mind was full of frustration over his situation. All he wanted to do was produce music, yet his father was making him spend a year at Barden, the university he taught at. He told him music wasn't a 'lucrative' field.

Beckham felt the taxi stop, and he got out, making his way to the trunk to grab his bags. He took the headphones off and hung them around his neck as he picked up his laptop bag.

Out of nowhere, a cheery Barden rep in a green polo popped up. "Hi, there!" she said. "Welcome to Barden University! What dorm?"

"Uh, Baker Hall," Beckham replied, a bit taken aback at her sunshine-y temperament.

"Okay. So what you're gonna do is go down this way to the left...."

Beckham's attention was drawn from her to the car that had just pulled up, blaring rock music. The girl in the backseat was rocking out. "Lay your weary head to rest! Don't you cry no more! No!" When she saw Beckham, she grinned and proceeded to do a corny air-guitar solo.

Beckham couldn't help smiling a little at her antics. Then the car took off, and she was gone.

 

\-----

 

Beckham hauled his things into his dorm, finding his roommate was already present. "Hey, you must be Chin-Hae, I'm Beckham."

Chin-Hae just eyed him with a look of contempt.

The first thing Beckham did was set up his equipment for his music. He wanted to finalize the mash-up he'd been working on earlier, and needed his equipment all in order to do it.

Later when his father barged in and started berating his life choices, Beckham took the out Chin-Hae gave him and headed down to the activities fair.

 

\-----

 

Beckham lost Chin-Hae almost immediately to the Korean Students Association. He continued wandering around, silently judging the frat members shouting a horrible cheer that could've been made up by an eight-year-old. "That's a double negative," he mumbled to himself, carrying on.

 

\-----

 

"I will stop at nothing to take those ding-a-lings down," Aubrey said through gritted teeth at the Barden Bellums' booth, listening to the Treblemakers.

"Hey, Leo! Are you going to audition this year? We have openings!" Cole said cheerfully, holding the clipboard out to a boy walking by.

"What, now that you've puked your way to the bottom you might actually consider me? I auditioned for you three times but I never got in because you said my shoulders looked like they were from a Lego person." Leo scowled. "The word's out. The Bellums are the laughingstock of a cappella. Good luck auditioning this year."

He stalked off, leaving Aubrey and Cole alone. "Oh my god," Cole said. "This is a tragedy. If we can't even recruit Lego Leo we can't get anybody!"

"Just take a breath," Aubrey tried to calm him, though he was freaking out himself. "Just take the dramatics down a notch."

"You're the one who got us into this mess, man!"

"We'll be fine! I'm confident we'll find eight super-hot guys with beach-ready bodies who can harmonize in perfect pitch." Aubrey held out a flyer. "Hi! Would you like to be a member of..." The group pushed past him.

Aubrey shoved a paper at Cole. "Just...keep flyer-ing. We have tradition to uphold."

"Why don't we just get good singers?" Cole suggested.

"What? Good singers?" an Australian-accented voice inquired.

Cole and Aubrey looked up to see a larger blond boy standing in front of them. "Hi," Cole greeted him. "Can you sing?"

"Yeah."

"Can you read music?"

"Yeah."

"Can you match pitch?"

"Try me."

Cole shared a look with Aubrey, trying a note. The boy matched it perfectly. Another, and a third, higher note. The boy held it for an impressively long time, though it wavered a bit.

"That was a really good start," Cole said with a smile.

"I'm the best singer in Tasmania," the boy commented. "With teeth," he added.

"I love it," Cole said.

"What's your name?" Aubrey asked.

"Fat Adam," the boy replied, not blinking an eye.

"Um, you call yourself Fat Adam?" Aubrey questioned.

"Yeah, so skinny dudes like you don't say it behind my back."

Cole and Aubrey shared a look. Aubrey handed him a flyer. "Alright. Well, see you at auditions...Fat Adam."

Fat Adam accepted the flyer. "I can sing, but I'm also good at modern dance, olden dance, and a little bit of mermaid dancing, which is a little different. There's a lot of floor work."

 

\-----

 

Beckham passed a bunch of boring-look booths, ignoring 99% of them. That was, until he saw the Barden DJs booth. He walked over to take a look, but conversation was soon taken over by a blond boy coming over and managing to possibly insult the Jewish girls at the booth.

Beckham continued his (possibly pointless) journey through the Quad.

Cole spotted him. "Oh, what about him," he asked Aubrey, subtly pointing him out.

"Oh, I don't know," Aubrey said. "He looks a little too... _alternative_."

Cole ignored him. "Hi, did you want to join our a cappella group?" he asked, handing Beckham a flyer.

"Oh, right," Beckham said. "This is like a thing now."

Cole's eyes lit up. "Oh, totally! We sing covers of songs, but we do it without using any instruments. It's all from our mouths."

Beckham blinked a little at the (probably unintentional) innuendo. "Yikes."

"There's four groups on campus," Cole continues. "The Bellums, that's us. The BU Harmonics, they sing a lot of Madonna. Uh, the High Notes. They're not particularly motivated. And then there's..." Cole trailed off as they all glanced in the direction of the Treblemakers. The girls finished their song with a "Let it whip!"

Cole and Aubrey evened out their glares before turning back to Beckham. "So, are you interested?" Cole asked, and it may have been Beckham's imagination, but he thought the guy might've checked him out a little.

"Sorry, it's just...it's kinda lame. Not my thing."

"Aca-scuse me?!" Aubrey demanded. "Synchronized dancing to a chart-topper is not lame!"

"What Aubrey is trying to say," Cole cut in, "is that we have competed in national championships."

Beckham looked skeptical. "...On purpose?"

Aubrey's smile grew strained. "We played the Cobb Industry Performing Arts Center, you dick," he said in a sickly-sweet tone.

Cole elbowed him. "What Aubrey means to say," he glared at his friend, "is that we are a tight-knit, talented group of guys whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Center this year. Help us turn our dreams into a reality?"

"Sorry, I don't even sing." The redhead was definitely flirting with him. But Beckham was surprised to note he didn't mind at all. He might've even said he was flattered by the attention. "But it was really nice to meet you guys." Beckham walked away, leaving Cole and Aubrey alone.

Cole made a face, waiting for Aubrey's blow-up at their failure. "What," the blond gritted out, "are we going to do?"

 

\-----

 

Beckham found an internship at the radio station to sign up for, and found himself there a few days later. He entered the studio, taking in his surroundings. Hundreds of records and CDs were scattered on shelves throughout the studio, and the booth was located in the back.

"95.7 WBUJ. Music for the independent mind," he heard over the radio when the current song ended, coming from the booth.

An attractive blonde woman, probably in her mid-twenties, leaned back in the booth's chair, headphones on. Beckham made his way towards the booth. The woman exited it, saying, "Hey. Have you been standing there long?"

"Hey," Beckham replied. "And no. No, I just got here. I wasn't...just standing here," he said awkwardly, trailing off as she entered the booth again.

"Freshmen aren't allowed in the booth," the woman said, hauling a box of CDs out past him.

"Sorry," Beckham muttered, stepping out of her way.

"I'm Lucy, station manager, you must be...Bradley the intern?"

"Um, it's, uh," Beckham started to explain when someone else entered.

"Hey, what's up?" greeted the girl Beckham had seen playing air-guitar. "I'm Jessie."

"I'm Lucy, and you're late," retorted the blonde woman. She carried the CDs over to a desk.

"Hey, I know you," Jessie said cheerfully to Beckham.

"No you don't," Beckham shot back.

"Yeah, I do."

"She doesn't."

"Totally do. I totally know him."

Lucy gave them an odd look. "Okay...cool. You guys can figure that out while you're stacking CDs. When you're done, there's more. Now, you guys will be spending a lot of down time together, so please, no sex on the desk. I've been scarred before." With that, she left them to it.

"I do know you," Jessie countered immediately. "I sang to you. I remember because you were in a taxi. Wait, is your dad a taxi driver?"

Beckham just gave her an odd look. "...No."

Silence fell between them for a few seconds. "This sucks," Beckham finally said. "I wanted to play music."

Jessie looked at him with a slight smirk. "Not me. I'm here for one reason only. I really love stacking CDs."

Beckham glanced at her, and they had a few moments of eye contact. Beckham finally broke it.

"So what's your deal?" Jessie asked casually. "Are you one of those guys who's all dark and mysterious, then he takes off his glasses and that amazingly scare ear spike and you realize you know, he was super handsome the whole time?"

"I don't wear glasses," Beckham retorted, sorting the CDs in his hand.

"Then you're halfway there," Jessie shot back with a smile.

 

\-----

 

Beckham loved making mash-ups. There was something about putting two things together that were unexpected made him so satisfied. On the Quad, he mixed _Titanium_ and _I'm Gonna Be_ together, sliding his headphones on and laying down in the grass, ignoring the hubbub around him.

 

\-----

 

"Beckham?" Beckham's father walked into the dorm room to find Beckham asleep, curled up on the futon. "Beckham, wake up."

Beckham stirred, stretching.

"Funny, this doesn't look like your Intro to Philosophy class," his father said tersely.

"I'm actually posing an important philosophical question," Beckham mumbled. "If I don't actually go to that class, will it still suck?"

"Look, son, college...it's great. You get to create memories here. I see it every day. You just have to give it a chance. You've been here what- a month now? Do you have any friends?"

"Chin-Hae is my friend," Beckham refuted.

"No," Chin-Hae said from where he sat at his desk with his laptop, not even pausing in his typing.

Beckham gave him a look of betrayal.

"You gotta get out there, Beck. You've got to try _something_."

"I got a job at the radio station," Beckham tried as he looked through his closet.

"Oh, great, that place," his father replied. "It's dark, and dirty, and has what, three weirdos working there?"

Beckham closed his closet door after he found what he wanted. "Well, four, now."

"You've got to try something new, Beck. Join one club on campus. And if at the end of the year, you still don't want to be here? If you still want to go off to L.A. and be...P Diddy? Well then, you can quit college. And I will help you move to L.A."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. But I really need to see it, Beckham. This is college. Join in!"

 

\-----

 

" _You shout it out, but I_ _can't hear a word you say_ ," Beckham sang quietly to himself as he made his way to the showers. " _I'm_ _talking loud, not saying much_." He didn't see the two people occupying another shower stall.

" _I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet. You shoot me down, but I get up_." He ditched his robe, hanging it on the hook before stepping into the shower, pulling the curtain closed and turning the water on.

" _I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose. Fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim..._ "

"You _can_ sing!" Cole exclaimed from where the shower curtain was now open.

Beckham jumped about a foot, spinning and trying to cover himself. " _Dude_!" He grabbed the shower curtain, pulling it closed again.

Cole threw it open again. "How high does your belt go?"

"My what?" Beckham turned off the water, crowding into the corner, trying to avoid Cole. " _Oh my god_!"

"You have to audition for the Bellums!" Cole insisted.

"I can't concentrate on anything you're saying until you cover your junk!"

"Just consider it! One time, we sang back-up for Prince!" While Cole was talking, Beckham grabbed the shower curtain, using it to cover himself more fully. "His ass is so tiny, I could hold it with like, one hand."

Beckham dropped his shampoo bottle as Cole moved the curtain away, immediately turning towards the wall to try to preserve his modesty.

"Seriously?" Cole questioned.

"I am nude," Beckham stated.

"You were singing _Titanium_ , right?" Cole barreled right along.

Beckham chanced a glance at him (pointedly keeping his eyes on his face). "You know David Guetta?"

"Have I been living under a rock? Yeah. That song is my jam. My _solo_ jam." He wiggled his eyebrows at Beckham.

Beckham turned back to the wall. "That's nice."

"It is. That song really builds."

"Gross," Beckham whispered.

"Will you sing it for me?" Cole asked.

"Dude, no! Get out!" Beckham exclaimed.

"Not for that reason! And I'm not leaving here until you sing, so." Cole crossed his arms, unintentionally flexing his muscles in a way Beckham should not be thinking about especially now.

Beckham considered his options before turning around, still covering himself up as fully as he can (this situation is awkward as _fuck_ ). Cole looked pleased.

" _I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose_ ," Beckham started.

" _Fire away, fire away_." Cole joined in, taking a slightly higher harmony. " _Ricochet, you take your aim. Fire away, fire away. Shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium. Shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium_." The last note hung in the air for a few seconds.

Cole looked extremely pleased with himself, more so than he should standing completely naked, uninvited, in another guy's shower, in Beckham's opinion. But he couldn't help matching his smile for a moment before pointedly looking away.

Cole got the message. "Oh! Yeah. I'm pretty confident about...all this." He gestured to his body vaguely.

"You should be," Beckham replied.

Cole smiled at him, then said, "Oh," and handed Beckham his towel.

Beckham accepted it. "I should shower."

A naked brunette came up behind Cole, addressing Beckham. "You have a lovely voice."

"...Thanks." Beckham looked pointedly between the brunette and Cole in a silent get the hell out.

Cole understood. "Oh. Okay." He left Beckham's shower, saying, "See you at auditions!"

Beckham stood there for another full minute. Holy shit. Cole had just barged into his shower because he heard him sing.

 

\-----

 

Beckham was wrestling with himself. Should he go to auditions? A cappella wasn't really his thing, but his father wanted him to join a club to 'try'. It wouldn't be that bad.

Mind made up, Beckham headed for the auditorium where auditions were being held. As he arrived, two boys were up on the stage. Was he too late?

Cole spotted him then, looking relieved. "Oh, wait! There's one more." He waved to him.

Beckham waved back awkwardly. "Hi. Um. I didn't know we had to prepare that song."

"Oh, that's okay," Cole answered. "Sing anything you want."

Beckham kneeled down by the table Cole and Aubrey were at. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the plastic cup full of pens and pencils. At Cole's nod, he dumped them out, taking the cup. He settled himself onto the stage, cross-legged, right in front of their table, cup before him.

He cleared his throat before clapping out a rhythm, moving the cup to add an instrument to it. " _I've got my ticket for the long way 'round_ ," he sang, keeping the rhythm going to entire time without pause. " _Two bottles of whiskey for the way. And I sure would like some sweet company, and I'm leaving tomorrow, what do you say? When I'm gone, when I'm gone..._ "

Meanwhile, Cole and Aubrey were watching him closely, Aubrey with mild concern.

" _You're gonna miss me when I'm gone. You're gonna miss me by my hair, you're gonna miss me everywhere, oh, I know you're gonna miss me when I'm gone_." He ended the song with a final hit of the cup to the stage. He sat there awkwardly for a second, watching the reactions.

Cole smiled at him brightly, before shifting his gaze to Aubrey. Aubrey looked annoyed and contemplative, like he didn't know what to make of him.

And in the wings, Jessie whispered, "Wow."

 

\-----

 

Beckham didn't take kindly to being kidnapped form his dorm and dragged to a weird location for Bellums initiation. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally punched someone in the face.

Once the hood was ripped off, Beckham looked around at the candles. It looked kind of spooky.

"We shall begin by drinking the blood of the brothers that came before you," Aubrey said, handing a goblet to Cole, who brought it over to Beckham first.

"Dude, no," Beckham said, looking at them like they were crazy.

"Don't worry, it's booze form," Cole said with a wink.

Reluctantly, Beckham took a sip. Fruit punch with a shit-ton of vodka. Not bad, actually. The goblet was passed down the line of new members.

"Now, if you'll place your bandanas in your right hand," Cole said.

"Repeat after me," Aubrey directed. "I, sing your name."

"I, _Beckham_ ," Beckham complied, albeit at a much lower volume than the others.

"Promise to fulfill the duties and responsibilities of a Bellum man."

"Promise to fulfill the duties and responsibilities of a Bellum man," Beckham echoed with everyone else.

"And I solemnly promise to never have sexual relations with a Treblemaker, or may my dick and vocal chords be ripped out by wolves."

Beckham's eyebrows furrowed. Really? That was a thing? "And I solemnly promise to never have sexual relations with a Treblemaker, or may my dick and vocal chords be ripped out by wolves?" Beckham repeated it more tentatively, the others' voices raising at the end in question as well.

Aubrey looked pleased. "You are all Bellums now."

The Bellums erupted into cheers, and Beckham stepped away from the chaos a bit.

Cole nudged Aubrey with his elbow. "We did it."

"I want some more of this," Fat Adam commented, grabbing the goblet of fruit punch/vodka and chugging it.

"Did we?" Aubrey asked softly.

 

\-----

 

After a short celebration of their own, Aubrey led the Bellums to the place where the real party was. "Gentlemen, welcome to aca-initiation night. Prepare to soften the beach."

Several Bellums gave Aubrey an odd look, before taking off to join the party.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," Beckham commented to Fat Adam.

"Just living the dream," Fat Adam replied. "I still can't believe they let my sexy fat ass in."

"Beckham! Beckham!"

Beckham turned when he heard his name being called. "Wow."

Jessie climbed over the bench seats, making her way towards him. " _Beck-ham_! Beck-ham. Do my eyes deceive me, or are you a Barden Bellum?"

"No."

"You're one of those a cappella boys, I'm one of those a cappella girls, and we're going to have aca-children. It's inevitable."

"You're really drunk right now," Beckham noted. "I don't think you're going to remember any of this."

"No," Jessie protested. "I'm not drunk at all, you're just blurry."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? You almost fell over?"

"No."

"Can you pass a sobriety test right now?" Beckham asked with a small smile, gently pushing at one of her shoulders.

"Yep." Jessie swayed, but returned to her original position.

"Can you stand up straight?"

"See how I come right back? And I come right back."

"Right. Wow." Beckham couldn't help his grin at her drunken antics.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"Sounds great," Beckham replied.

"I'm gonna get you a drink," Jessie declared.

"Go for it."

"I think you need to get on this level." Jessie turned away, heading off in search of a drink for Beckham, leaving him smiling and shaking his head.

"Please be careful," he called.

Cole bounded up to him, take his hands. "Hi!" he appeared already drunk, happy and tactile. "I am so glad that I met you!" He leaned in close to Beckham, their noses brushing. "I think that we're gonna be really fast friends," he murmured intimately.

"Yeah. Well, you saw me naked, so..." Beckham couldn't resist giving him a wink.

"Yeah." Cole was smirking at him, eyes shining. "Nothing to be ashamed of yourself," he flirted, winking at him clumsily.

"You're so drunk. How'd you get this drunk already?"

"It's a gift. You are really hot. Y'know, I regret that I haven't really experimented that much yet."

Beckham tried to remember how he'd gotten himself into this situation.

 

\-----

 

Across the amphitheater, Fat Adam and Aubrey were talking, drinks in hand. "You know, there are ten of us," Fat Adam noted. "That means one of us is probably gay."

"You think? Which one do you think it is?" Aubrey questioned.

"My money's on Black Beauty." They both looked over to where Stanley was talking with Cyrus.

"So, when I drink too much tonight, can I count on you to make sure I don't get puke all over my clothes?" Stanley was asking Cyrus as he turned away to grab a new drink. Cyrus blatantly checked out his ass.

"Ah," Aubrey said in understanding (and if he also checked out Stanley's ass, that's because he was drunk. Everyone's a little gay when they're drunk, right?)

"Don't tell him I said that," Fat Adam added. "I don't care if he is or anything, I just don't want him getting offended."

Meanwhile, Cole ran his hands over Beckham's arms before letting go. "All right. I'm gonna go get a drink. This ginger needs his jiggle juice!" He wiggled his ass, winking at Beckham before walking away. "See you later!"

"Make good choices," Beckham mumbled, cheeks flushed from their previous conversation.

Someone put on some upbeat music, and soon everyone was singing along. Jessie returned with a drink for Beckham, attempting to sing along but failing. " _I don't know the words, but I can improvise_ ," she sang, handing him the cup.

"Thank you." Beckham took a sip of the beer.

"This is awesome," Jessie commented, surveying the party around them.

"It's definitely something."

"WE ARE THE KINGS OF CAMPUS!" Jessie yelled, raising her cup for emphasis.

\-----

A few hours later, the party was wilder than ever. Everyone was completely hammered, it seemed, except for Beckham. He observed Cory grinding on a pretty Treblemaker girl, and distantly hoped the Bellums weren't serious about that pledge.

Cole made his way over to him now that Jessie had left, too drunk to party any longer. "Dance with me, Beck!" He put his hands on Beckham's hips, almost grinding on him.

"That's a little hard-core, Cole," Beckham said, stepping back but still bopping to the music awkwardly to appease the redhead.

Cole pouted a little, and Beckham tried to ignore the urge he had to kiss him. He'd never wanted to make out with a guy before, but Cole was different, flirting with him all the time.

"I thought you had a girlfriend," he said.

Cole shook his head. "Well, Trina and I slept together once, but that's it. She says bi guys aren't 'stable enough for a relationship'." He made messy finger quotes. "She thinks 'cause I'm bi I'd cheat on her."

"That sucks, man."

"Well, screw her, I've got twice as many options as she does," Cole said with a wink.

"I'm going to head to bed. Be safe, okay?"

Cole smirked at him. "Alone?"

"Yeah, but I'll walk you back to yours if you're leaving."

Cole appeared to consider his offer for a moment. "Sure!" He dropped his cup of beer on to a bench, grabbing Beckham's arm like they were going for a stroll around a nineteenth-century garden. "Lead the way."

 

\-----

 

Aubrey called practice to order the next day. "Okay, tenors in the front, baritones in the back. As you can see, Cory is not here. Last night, he fell under the spell of a Treblemaker, and ended up in her bed. He has been disinvited from the Bellums."

"That oath was serious?" Beckham said incredulously. He hadn't actually thought it was serious. More metaphorical.

"Dixie Chicks serious. You can fool around with whoever you want to, just not a Treble," Aubrey declared.

"That's not going to be easy," Stanley commented smugly. "He's a hunter." He gestured to his crotch.

"Stanley, the Trebles don't respect us and don't take us serious as an a cappella group. If we allow them to seduce us, we are giving them our power." Aubrey looked sharply around the look. "So does anyone here have anything to confess?"

Beckham looked around. Mark was looking uncomfortable. Aubrey looked at him pointedly, and Mark started babbling. "It was an accident, I..."

"Turn in your bandana and go," Aubrey said firmly.

Mark looked devastated, but he complied, handing over his bandana from his backpack. Aubrey made a motion for him to stand and leave, and he did, dragging his chair with him. The sound of the metal scraping on the floor only heightened the level of shame. As soon as he could, Mark ran out, audibly crying. Aubrey looked unbothered, but Cole was staring at the floor.

"Was that necessary?" Beckham fired off before he could really think about it.

"This is war, Beckham," Aubrey replied. "and it is my job to make sure my soldiers are prepped at go time with three kick-ass songs sung and choreographed to perfection. And there are only four months until Regionals, so if you have a problem with the way I run the Bellums, then you should just..." Aubrey had been getting visibly more upset with every sentence, but he cut off abruptly, almost heaving a bit.

He turned away, trying to get a hold of himself. Cole stepped closer to him, rubbing his back. "Don't stress, Aubrey. Relax," Cole whispered to him. "We don't want a repeat of what happened last year."

Just as Aubrey gathered himself and turned to face the Bellums again, Link raised his hand. "What happened last year?" he asked, so soft that no one heard him.

"What are you saying?" Cole asked.

Link took a deep breath before repeating himself, a little louder. "What happened last year?"

Four minutes later, the Bellums were all gathered around a tablet, watching the end of the video from last year. Many were visibly cringing at Aubrey's stress-induced puke-fest.

Aubrey clapped to get their attention. "Enough! It happened, it's over. We will practice every day for at least two hours, seven days a week. And I trust you will add your own cardio."

Beckham's smile dropped. "Why cardio?"

"Yeah, no, don't put me down for cardio," Fat Adam added in.

Aubrey's smile was tight. "Okay, moving on. This is a list of all the songs we've ever performed. And you will notice we favor traditional songs with lots of opportunities for harmony, mostly made famous by women."

Beckham flipped through his copy of the list. "There's nothing from this century on here." He was more than a bit horrified.

"Because we don't stray from tradition." Aubrey shared a look with Cole. "Now, this is how we will become champions." He flipped over the whiteboard, full of writing. It started at Bellum Building Blocks and ended at Victory.

 

\-----

 

Practice was like nothing Beckham had ever done. Vocal exercises, cardio on stairs. It was tough.

And Aubrey was yelling for the entire duration of cardio. "C'mon, boys, let's go! Go, go, go, pick up your knees! Faster, faster, one, two, one, two, one, two!" All the while, he managed to stay ahead of the group, never becoming short of breath. Beckham begrudging envied his fitness level.

"Knees up, knees up! Go, go! Go! Let's get it!" He stood at the bottom of the stairs, slapping every guy's ass as they ran by. "Yes, Cole! Nice!" He gave him double high-fives when he passed. "Adam!" Aubrey spotted Fat Adam laying in the rows of seats, hiding. "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing horizontal running." Fat Adam moved his legs in a vaguely bicycle-like movement.

"Horizontal running?"

Dance practice came after the cardio, which in Beckham's opinion, was pure hell. He caught a glimpse of Cole trying to keep Stanley's hands from moving close to his crotch every time he attempted dancing (or singing).

Aubrey and Cole demonstrated some of the basic moves for them, and Beckham was definitely not watching Cole's ass half of the time. Nope. Definitely not.

Beckham didn't consider himself a natural dancer, but he was decent. Cole only had to come correct him a few times, moving his hands or shifting his hips the proper way. He didn't notice Aubrey glaring at Cole every time he put his hands on Beckham's hips to demonstrate the proper move.

More than once, Beckham did notice Cyrus checking out Stanley's ass. Cole, too. Cole, however, wasn't necessarily a surprise after his coming-out to Beckham at aca-initiation night.

Finally, Aubrey was done. "Okay! I'm calling it!"

After, Beckham approached Aubrey. "Hey, Aubrey. Did we just learn the same choreography from that video?"

Aubrey ignored him. "Okay. Don't forget to pick up your performance schedules. We have a gig next week. That's right. Next week. You guys, it's Sigma Beta Theta's Annual Fall Mixer." Aubrey and Cole distributed the schedules.

Aubrey sighed a bit in relief. "Okay. Hands in, Bellums." When no one besides him and Cole moved, he said, "Hands in, aca-dicks!"

"Okay," mumbled the rest of the Bellums, putting the heir hands in.

"Sing _ah_ on three."

" _Ah_!" Fat Adam sang immediately.

"No, no, no. It's actually on three, Fat Adam. Okay. One, two..."

Aubrey and Cole sang, " _Ah_!" while the others sang at different counts, confused as to when they were supposed to sing.

Aubrey visibly cringed. "Okay, we will work on that first thing next time." As everyone gathered their things to leave, he added, "Beckham, a word?"

"What's up?"

Aubrey gave him a fake smile. "You know you'll have to take those ear monstrosities out for the Fall Mixer."

Beckham smiled a little. "You really don't like me, do you?"

"I don't like your attitude."

"You don't even know me."

"I know you have a toner for Jessie."

Beckham chuckled a little. "A what?"

"A toner. A musical boner. I saw it at Hood Night. It's distracting."

Beckham scoffed. "Yeah, that's not a thing and you're not the boss of me. So..."

"You took an oath." Aubrey was getting frustrated.

"That oath cost you two boys already today. I'm pretty sure you need me more than I need you."

Aubrey was seething. "I can see your toner through those jeans!" he fired off as one last word as Beckham walked away.

Beckham turned, walking backwards a few steps. "That's my dick."

Cole joined Aubrey at where he stood now that the rest of the Bellums had gone. "Everything okay?"

Aubrey nodded roughly. "We better have our shit together for SBT."

Cole smiled. "I'm not worried. I think we're going to be aca-awesome." He bumped Aubrey's shoulder with his own. Aubrey didn't look convinced.

 

\-----

 

After a humiliating partial performance, Aubrey was on their case. "Well, I hope you all remember the way you feel right now, so you will never wanna feel this way again. Cole, your voice didn't sound like it normally does at all. Cole, for serious, what is wrong with you?"

Cole turned to face the group. "I have nodes."

Aubrey's expression was horrified. "What? Oh my god."

"I found out this morning."

"What are nodes?" Beckham asked.

Aubrey looked up from where he now held his best friend's hands I n an attempt at comfort. "Vocal nodules. The rubbing together of your vocal chords at above-average rates without proper lubrication."

Cole nodded. "They sit on your windpipe and they crush your dreams."

Fat Adam tried not to laugh. "You said lubrication."

"Isn't that painful? Why would you keep performing?" Beckham asked.

"Because I love to sing," Cole replied, as if it was obvious.

"Yeah, it's like when my doctor told me not to have sex for six weeks, and I did it anyway," Stanley cut in.

"You should really listen to your doctor," Fat Adam said, voice a bit concerned.

"The key is early diagnosis," Cole continued. "I am living with nodes. But I am a survivor. I just have to pull back. Because I am limited. Because I have nodes."

"Cole this is horrible," Aubrey said.   
  
Fat Adam shrugged. "Well, at least it's not an STD. Or do you have that as well?"

 

\-----

 

At the radio station, Jessie was always trying to get Beckham to laugh, goofing around with the album covers. He hid his amusement, but not well.

"Jessie?" Lucy called. "I'm starving, so could you..."

"You want me to get you lunch? You should probably lay off the burgers. You're not going to be twenty-two forever, you know."

Lucy picked up the hem of her shirt a ways, exposing impressive abs. "Yeah, I think I'm good."

"She's good. You're good," Beckham added in.

"And the chess match continues," Jessie muttered before leaving to go get the burgers.

"Hey, this is my new mix, so if there's anything you wanted to play..." Beckham handed Lucy a flash drive.

Lucy took it. "Yeah, okay, I'll put it on the pile." She tossed it into the basket on her desk, holding a bunch of other flash drives form Beckham, all holding mixes.

 

\-----

 

"What's up, weirdo?" Beckham looked up to see Jessie. She threw a Capri-Sun at him.

"Okay," Beckham said as he caught it. Jessie spread out a blanket on the grass next to him, settling onto it. "What's this?" Beckham asked.

"As much as I love spending time with you stacking CDs...And I do. I love it. Like, more than life. I figured we could so some other fun things that don't make us wanna kill ourselves, right?" She reached into her backpack, pulling out a collection of DVDs. "So, I brought some movies. _Jaws_ , _E.T._ , _The Breakfast Club_ , _Star Wars_ , and _Rocky_. Best scored and soundtracked movies of all time. That's what I wanna do when I grow up. I wanna score movies. Bring people to tears, you know. Blow their minds. I feel like only music can do that."

Beckham sipped at his Capri-Sun. "Yeah. You must really sweep your boyfriend off his feet."

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend."

"What?" Beckham said playfully.

"No."

"You have juice pouches and _Rocky_!" Beckham exclaimed with a grin.

Jessie returned her attention to the movies. "Okay, so what do you wanna watch first?"

"Wanna do something else?" Beckham suggested. "We could relive my parents' divorce. Or visit a proctologist."

"What, do you not like movies or something?"

Beckham didn't answer, he just sipped at his juice pouch.

"Like, any movies? You don't...what the hell is wrong with you? How do you not like movies? Not liking movies is like not liking puppies!"

"They're fine, I just get bored and never make it to the end," Beckham protested.

"The endings are the best part."

"They're predictable," Beckham counters. "Like, the guy gets the girl, and that kid sees dead people and Darth Vader is Luke's father."

"Oh, right, so you just happened to guess the biggest cinematic reveal in history?!"

"Vader in German means father. His name is literally Darth Father."

Jessie looked surprised by that factoid. "Huh. So you know German. Well, now I know why you don't like fun things. You know, you need a movie education. You need a movie-cation. And I'm going to give it to you."

"Yeah, in between Bellums rehearsals, which are always."

Jessie looked back at Beckham instead of the bag she was packing up. "Are you guys getting ready for the riff-off?"   
  
Beckham just looked at her. "What the fuck is a riff-off?"

 

\-----

 

The following night, all the a cappella groups on campus were gathered in a huge, drained swimming pool. Beckham wondered why it was unused, but decided not to ask questions.

"Welcome to the Riff-Off!" one of the guys in charge yelled. "Who's ready to get vocal?" All the groups cheered. "The winners get the greatest prize of all..."

Jessie mouthed to Beckham from across the pool, "I'm taking you down."

"...the microphone used by Hoobastank..."

"I don't care," Beckham mouthed back.

"...when they rocked out the Schnee Performing Arts Center! Let's see our first category." He held up a spinner to the wall of the pool, waiting for it to stop.

"Ladies of the 80s!"

Aubrey ran forward, only to be beat by Bumper and the Trebles. " _Oh, Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind hey Mickey, hey Mickey. Oh, Mickey, you're so fine..._ "

A girl from the BU Harmonics cut in. " _You're so fine and you're mine. I'll be yours till the end of time. 'Cause you make me feel. Yeah, you make me feel. Shiny and new. Like a virgin..._."

"Okay, guys," Aubrey called a huddle. They whispered for a bit before Aubrey strode towards the BU Harmonics. " _Like the one in me. That's okay. Let's see how you do it, put up your dukes, let's get down to it! Hit me with your best shot! Why don't you hit me with your best shot? Hit me with your best shot! Fire away!_ "

A girl from High Notes stepped in. " _Ayyyy. It must have been love. But it's over now_."

Onlooker jeered at her, and she was cut off, disqualifying the High Notes. "Let's check out our next category!" The spinner made a reappearance.

"So, we just pick any song that works?" Beckham asked Cole.

"Yeah. Any song."

"And you just go with it? Nice."

"And our next category is....songs about sex."

"Sex?" Aubrey asked. Beckham didn't find it to be a long shot; Aubrey had such a stick up his ass he doubted the blond was getting laid.

Cyrus started them off before the Trebles could take over. " _Na na na come on. Na na na come on, come on, come on. 'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it..._ " Cyrus ground on Stanley as he sang, getting whoops from the crowd and the other groups alike. " _Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it. Sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me. 'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it..._ "

Donna from the Trebles cut them off. " _Sex, baby, let's talk about you and me. Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be. Let's talk about sex. Let's talk about sex a little bit, a little bit. Let's talk about sex, baby._ "

Stanley stepped forward, cutting Donna off. " _Baby, all through the night I'll make love to you. Like you want me to. And I..._ "

Jessie was the one to interrupt this time. " _And I guess it's just the woman in you, that brings out the man in me. I know I can't help myself. You're all in the world to me._ "

Aubrey glared at Beckham as he realized Jessie was teasingly singing the song to him. Beckham jokingly blew Jessie a kiss.

Jessie continued. " _It feels like the first time. It feels like the very first time. It feels like the first time..._ "

Beckham ran up, cutting them off. " _It's going down, fade to Blackstreet the homies got RB, collab' creations bump like acne, no doubt I put it down, never slouch as long as my credit can vouch a dog couldn't catch me straight up. Tell me who can stop when Dre makin' moves attracting honeys like a magnet giving 'em eargasms with my mellow accent. Still moving this flavor with the homies Blackstreet and Teddy the original rump shakers_." He noticed no one was backing him up and trailed off.

Cole was eying Beckham with interest the entire time he was rapping.

"Keep going," Jessie encouraged when Beckham faded out.

Beckham shrugged. " _Shorty get down, good lord. Baby got 'em up open all over town. Strictly biz she don't play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound. Getting paid is her forte. Each and every day, true player way. I can't get her out of my mind. I think about the girl all the time. I like the way you work it, no diggity, I got to bag it up, baby. I like the way you work it, no diggity, I got to bag it up baby. I like the way you work it, no diggity, I got to bag it up baby. I like the way you work it, no diggity, I got to bag it up, baby. I like the way you work it, no diggity, I got to bag it up! We out_."

The Bellums finished to furious applause. Beckham grinned with pride. He smirked over at Jessie, who was clapping. "I mean, you're welcome."

Justin, the guy in charge, stepped forward. "It's a tough blow, gentlemen. The word you needed to match was 'it'. And you sang 'it's'. You are cut off! The Trebles win!"

The Trebles cheered loudly. Jessie said playfully, "Beckham, I'm sorry, you lost."

"I've never head that rule!" Aubrey yelled. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, come on. Come back." He folded his arms. "Before everybody goes to bed tonight, I need you to make a list of everything you did wrong."

"I'm gonna melt that Cabbage Patch kid," Fat Adam growled, gesturing to Bumper, who was celebrating while she clutched the microphone they'd won.

"Hey guys, what we just did was great, right?" Beckham spoke up.

"Chill. We still lost," Aubrey noted.

"Yeah, but it was spontaneous. It was awesome," Beckham countered. "We were actually listening to..."

"Okay, everybody, hands in," Aubrey interrupted him. "Ah on my count."

"Oh three or after three?" Stanley questioned.

It sparked a bunch of debate over the timing. "Oh, why can't we figure this out!" Stanley groaned.

 

\-----

 

Beckham was explaining what he did to Jessie. "So, I just find songs that have the same chord progressions and create a track that blends them together. So, like, this is the new bass line," He pointed to his computer screen, and Jessie leaned in to see better. "and this is the matching up downbeats." He removed his headphones. "Whoa, I'm talking really loud." He handed them to Jessie. "That's me singing."

The Treble put on the headphones, bobbing her head to the beat as Beckham watched anxiously, waiting for a reaction. "This is really good!" Jessie exclaimed loudly. "Wait- now I'm the one yelling, right?" she said, quieter and with a smile. Beckham nodded, grinning.

Jessie removed the headphones. "That is amazing, Beckham." She handed them back to him.

Beckham smiled, softer. "Thanks."

Jessie reached for her backpack. "So, I brought this over, because I wanna watch you watch the end of this movie." She held up _The Breakfast Club_. "And then I can die a hero."

Beckham chuckled. Jessie set up her laptop as he watched fondly. "You have a habit of making yourself at home, did you know that?" he noted with amusement, watching her settle onto his futon.

"Yeah." She waved him over, and Beckham complied, sitting next to her. "Okay. _The Breakfast Club_. 1985. Greatest ending to any movie, ever. This song launched Simple Minds in the U.S. Could have been a Billy Idol song, but he turned it down. Idiot."

Jessie's smile was relaxed and happy. "Perfectly sums up the movie. It's equally beautiful and sad."

Beckham couldn't resist commentary. "That is fascinating."

"Right?"

"Tell me, what does Judd Nelson eat for breakfast?"

Jessie grinned. "Oh, well, like all misunderstood rebels, he feeds on hypocrisy."

"Sure."

"...And black coffee to help with his morning dumps."

Beckham couldn't contain his chuckle. "You're an idiot."

"It's true. I'm full of fun facts."

"You should let other people tell you they're fun," Beckham countered. He watched Jessie's expression as the movie played, saw how enthralled she was. He saw her make a fist at the same time as the character onscreen, obviously a subconscious reaction.

She turned to face him. "You're missing the ending," she said quietly.

"Sorry." Beckham returned his attention to the screen, but Jessie didn't look away. He glanced back at her, and then she started to lean in.

Beckham shifted, clearing this throat. He clicked the pause button on the laptop. "It's good. I'm sure the beginning is..."

Just then, the lights turned on and Chin-Hae entered the dorm, laughing with his friends. When he saw them, Chin-Hae stopped laughing. "The white boy is back."

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Jessie grabbed her laptop. "And I'm out." She gathered her things. "Always a pleasure, Chin-Hae." She looked back at Beckham on her way out, expression unreadable. "So....excuse me. Excuse me." She left.

Beckham couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd had Jessie, a wonderful, friendly, pretty girl who was interested in him trying to kiss him, but he....hadn't really wanted to. He was frustrated. He should have wanted to. Jessie was great. She just...wasn't what he wanted. _Who_ he wanted.

Unprompted, his mind flashed to Cole, all auburn hair and flirty smiles. Was....? Did he want Cole instead? He was reluctant to admit, even to himself, that the answer was yes. He liked Jessie well enough, but as a friend, not a lover. He liked to spend time with her, laughing and watching movies, but that was all. Cole...Cole on the other hand, he wanted everything with.

Since he was finally admitting it, he admitted it all the way. He wanted to laugh with Cole outside of Bellums practice. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to curl up with him on the couch, maybe making out, maybe just cuddling. He wanted to learn his (probably ridiculously complicated) coffee order and hold his hand while they waited for it. He wanted Cole in his bed, to feel his lips on his skin.....

Beckham shook himself mentally. That was quite the development. It turned out that he was gay, and he didn't even know it until now.

 

\-----

 

In practice, the Bellums were working hard to perfect their set. At the end, Fat Adam was panting heavily. "I should've taken that cardio tip more seriously."

"How much have you done?" Aubrey asked, retrieving his water bottle.

"Uh, you just saw it."

Aubrey tapped Cole in the shoulder with his water bottle. "Cole, you gotta be able to hit that last note."

"I can't! It's impossible!" Cole huffed, obviously agitated. "And it's because of my, my nodes."

"His nodes, his nodes," Fat Adam echoed.

Aubrey put his hands on his hips. "Well, if you can't do it, then someone else needs to solo."

"I think Beckham should take my solo," Cole offered, gesturing to the brunet.

"Yeah, Beckham would be excellent. But also, someone else might be equally as excellent," Fat Adam said.

"It's true," Beckham cut in.

"...And they might be shy, and not wanna come forward and say they wanted a solo." Fat Adam finished.

"Well, Beckham doesn't want a solo, so..." Aubrey took a drink of his water.

"I would be happy to do it," Beckham spoke up. "if I got to pick a new song and do an arrangement."

Aubrey's polite smile developed an edge. "Well, that's not how we run things around here."

Cole stepped forward. "Aubrey, maybe Beckham has a point. Maybe we could try something new."

"Aca-scuse me?" Aubrey asked, annoyed. "You can sing _Turn the Beat Around_ and that's the last I want to hear of this."

Beckham went to talk to Aubrey, speaking quieter. "That song is tired. We're not gonna win with it. If we pull samples from different genres and layer them together, we could make some..."

"Okay, let me explain something to you because you still don't seem to get it," Aibrey interrupted. "Our goal is to get back to the finals and these songs will get us there. So excuse me if I don't take advice from some alt-boy with his mad lib beats, because he's never even been in competition. Have I made myself clear?"

Beckham frowned a bit. "Crystal. I won't solo." He returned to his place in the group.

"Fine. Fat Adam?"

Fat Adam stood up straighter. "Yes, sir?"

"You'll solo."

Fat Adam fist-pumped the air. "Yes! Yes!"

 

\-----

 

Beckham fidgeted with his outfit in front of his dorm's mirror. They were performing at Regionals today, and he was nervous. He tugged at the collar of his white dress shirt, and smoothed down the lapels of his navy blue blazer. He had to admit, he looked damn good. Especially with his bandana folded into a pocket square, giving the ensemble a bit of color. He was confident in himself, but not that the Bellums would win.

He grabbed his wallet and left the room.

 

\-----

 

The Bellums watched the Sockappellas perform with amusement, though Aubrey scoffed openly.   
  
"A cappella out of sock puppets? Genius," Fat Adam chuckled, entertained.

"There's no craft there. Watching them will make you worse," Aubrey stated.

"At least they're different," Beckham remarked absently.

After the Sockappellas were given lukewarm applause, and another failed show circle, it was their turn. "Let's give it up for the Barden Bellums!"

The audience clapped, and they made their way onstage, ignoring the announcers' comments. They took their places, and Aubrey played the pitch pipe. "One, two, three, four..."

They launched into their set. Beckham moved in unison with the others, almost mindless after hours of practice. It felt...sluggish. The songs had seemed peppy in practice, but tired up here on stage. Especially _Eternal Flame_. _Turn the Beat Around_ was better with Fat Adam's palpable enthusiasm, but still wasn't where Beckham would've liked it to be. Still, he was satisfied with his performance.

They left the stage, the Treblemakers replacing them. Beckham locked eyes with Jessie was they exited the stage, who mouthed congratulations to them. The Treblemakers took the stage quickly, while the announcer said, "...And it says here in my notes that their front woman, Bumper Allen, has recently released her own line of sports sandals."

The Trebles got into position, launching into their song with energy. " _You spin my head right round, right round, when ya go down, when ya go down down_." They were exploding with energy, and Jessie and Donna nailed the rap perfectly. The maroon hoodies and dark jeans seemed to allow them to be more comfortable and relaxed when dancing, Beckham noted. The blazer and slacks of the Bellums uniform had always felt a bit stifling to him.

Beckham wasn't surprised when they got second. They were good, but the Treblemakers were better. More energy, more enthusiasm, more of what the audience wanted. The girls were incredible. He was just glad to be headed to the Semis.

As they exited the auditorium, Beckham saw the Treblemakers in a confrontational stance before a group of middle-aged wannabe a cappella men. One guy was egging Jessie on. "C'mon, hit me!"

"What? No!"

Beckham shared a look with Fat Adam. "I've wrestled crocodiles and dingoes simultaneously."

One of the guys rushed Donna, who was handling it with Bumper's help.

"I don't wanna do that!" Jessie was protesting, setting down the Treblemakers' trophy.

"I'm just gonna...I'm just gonna check up on them," Beckham said, heading over to where Jessie was.

"The kraken has been unleashed. Feel the Fat Adam force!" Fat Adam exclaimed, charging after Beckham.

The man was now trying to pull the trophy from Jessie's hands. Beckham walked up to him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Hey." He turned, and Beckham punched him right in the face.

"Oh my god!" Jessie exclaimed.

"Oh, that's fantastic!" The man said.

"Adam, don't! Adam!" Beckham tried to take the trophy from Fat Adam, who was now holding it.

"Feel the fat power!" he yelled.

"Fat Adam! Kick me in the balls!" The guy yelled.

Fat Adam complied, and all the Bellums collectively winced in sympathy.

"Adam!" Beckham exclaimed.

"Give me the sharp weapon, I want to shove it up his butt!" Fat Adam exclaimed, trying to tug the trophy out of Beckham's grip.

Suddenly, the trophy broke, flying out of Fat Adam's hands. It shattered the glass window, and Beckham was left holding a part of it, staring in shock. A police officer was just outside and came to investigate.

Fat Adam ran off, despite Beckham's protests. "Vertical running! I'm vertical running!" he yelled.

 

\-----

 

"Hey, Hilary Swank From Million Dollar Baby," Jessie greeted Beckham outside the police station as he was released.

"Hey. You know you could've just said, 'Hey Million Dollar Baby'. You don't have to reference a specific actor."

"Damn. Prison changed you," Jessie teased.

"Thanks for bailing me out," Beckham said with a smile.

"Well, I didn't."

Beckham spotted the SUV. "You called my dad?!"

"I know, I know, but they were putting you in handcuffs, Beck! It looked pretty serious."

"That doesn't mean you call my dad!"

"Who else was I going to call? Okay, why are you yelling at me?" Jessie planted her hands on her hips. "I'm the only one here."

"I didn't ask you to be!"

Jessie's face shuttered off, hurt. "I was just trying to help you."

"I don't need your help. You're not my girlfriend."

Jessie nodded sharply. "Got it."

Beckham marched off to confront his father, and they got into an argument. Again. Beckham had been expecting it, but not so soon. He thought he'd have time before his father showed up.

 

\-----

 

Beckham made his way back to his dorm, defeated. His father wasn't going to pay for him to go to L.A. He'd have to get a job and make it on his own if he was ever going to get there.

He opened his dorm, just wanting to go to bed. To his surprise, all the Bellums were there, crowded on and around his futon.

"What up, Shawshank?" Fat Adam teased. They all laughed and joked for a moment.

"You guys waited up for me?" Beckham asked, putting down his bag.

Cole rose from the futon. "Of course we waited up for you." His smile was warm.

"They've been here for hours. It's a real inconvenience, Beckham." Chin-Hae then left the room, slamming the door on his way out.

"Beckham, I'm glad you're here," Aubrey said from his stop on Beckham's desk chair. "I'm calling an emergency Bellum meeting."

"No," Fat Adam groaned.

"First up, our score sheet revealed that the Sockappellas almost beat us. And Fat Adam, you need to do it exactly as we rehearsed it, okay? No surprises."

"We should be taking risks," Beckham piped up. "It's not good enough to be good, we need to put ourselves out there, be different."

"Beca's right. The Trebles never sing the same song twice." Cyrus backed him up.

"The audience love the Trebles, they tolerate us," Beckham added. "We could change the face of a cappella if we...oh my god, that sounds so fucking weird. What's happening to me?" He strode over to his desk. "Um, let me show you this arrangement I've been working on."

Cole moved to his side. "I didn't know you were into this stuff." He took in all the different things on the screen, the various pieces of equipment near the computer.

"Yeah," Beckham replied, a bit distractedly.

Aubrey folded his arms. "Okay, I have the pitch pipe, and I say we focus on the set list as planned."

Beckham looked defeated.

"From now on, there will be no wasting time with work or school or girlfriends or...partners. Sorry, Cyrus."

Cyrus shook his head minutely.

"But Aubrey, this stuff is pretty cool. I mean..." Cole spoke up.

"Okay, rehearsal tomorrow. Eight a.m. sharp." Aubrey spun on his heel, leaving the room.

 

\-----

 

On the day of Semi-Finals, Beckham raced into the radio station. "Hey!"

Jessie looked down from the balcony where she was stacking CDs.

"This is my track!" Beckham exclaimed when he neared the booth. "You're playing my song right now! That is awesome! You like it?"

Lucy smiled, taking off her headphones and exiting the booth.

"You put it on the radio! That is amazing!" Beckham continued.

"It's a sick beat," Lucy said.

"Yeah, I always thought his beats were pretty sick," Jessie called down from the balcony.

"Listen, Bradley, spring break, I want you to take the night shift. Play your music. The DJ at the Garage does a brilliant version of this, but yours? It's better."

"Yeah, it is," Beckham said with a grin.

"I'm gonna listen to her tonight. I think you should...you should come with."

Beckham shook his head. "I have a thing."

"Flight attendant training?" Lucy quipped.

"It's Barden Bellums. I have the Semi-Finals tonight."

"Really? I did not have you pegged as an a cappella boy."

"That 'cause you don't know _Bradley_ like I do." Jessie bumped his shoulder on her way out. "See you tonight."

 

\-----

 

The bus rolled to a stop at a gas station. Fat Adam took the keys out of the ignition. "Don't you flat-butts worry about this. I'm just gonna pump and dump." He exited the bus, going to the gas pump and removing the nozzle, making his way around to open the tank.

"Hey, Adam? Sabotage!"

Fat Adam whirled around, just in time to get hit by a flying burrito, courtesy of one Bumper Allen. She laughed along with the Trebles.

"I've been shot," Fat Adam said, falling back against the bus. "I've just been shot! Help me!"

Cyrus hurried to his side. "Fat Adam! They shot Adam! I've got you! I've got you." He attempted mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

"No, no, no. I'm talking, I'm talking, I'm sitting up," Fat Adam said. "There's no need for that. No mouth to mouth."

The other Bellums were at his side, helping him up from where he'd fallen to the ground. "Oh, shit. Bumper just threw a big-ass burrito at me. I swear, I'm gonna finish her like a cheesecake."

Soon, they were on the road again, after Adam had been cleaned up. The bus was mostly quiet. That was, until Cole started singing. " _I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan_."

Cyrus joined in. " _Welcome to the land of fame excess. Am I gonna fit in_?"

Adam added in happily, " _I jumped in the cab, here I am for the first time. Look to my right and I see the Hollywood sign. This is all so crazy, everybody seems so famous._ " Everyone added in gradually. " _My tummy's turnin' and I'm feelin' kinda homesick. Too much pressure and I'm nervous. That's when the taxi man turned on the radio and the Jay-Z song was on_."

At this point, Beckham was the only one not singing. Cole scooted over in his seat, smiling as he tried to get Beckham to join in. " _And the Jay-Z song was on_." Cole crept closer, sliding into Beckham's seat beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. " _And the Jay-Z song was on_!"

Beckham made them wait for a minute before sighing. " _So I put my hands up, they're playin' my song, the butterflies fly away_!" The bus exploded into motion, Cole standing up and dancing away from him.

" _I'm noddin' my head like, Yeah! Movin' my hips like, Yeah! Got my hands up, they're playin' my song, you know I'm gonna be okay! Yeah! It's a party in the USA! Yeah_!"

The singing died off as the bus died, rolling to a stop at the side of the road. "What the hell?" Aubrey demanded.

Fat Adam looked sheepish. "Um...it's pretty cool, actually. I think we're just running out of gas."

"No, that can't be. You just filled the tank."

"I did! And yet, maybe I didn't, because I got hit by flying Mexican food." The engine sputtered. "And we're out."

"Aca-scuse me?"

"Aca-believe it," Adam retorted.

"Maybe we could call..." Cole started.

Aubrey held up a hand. "No, don't you even say it, Cole. How dare you?"

"Oh no, actually, that's a really good idea. I've got Bumper's number," Adam offered.

"Why do you have Bumper's number?" Aubrey demanded.

"Uh....uh.....I plead the fifth."

 

\-----

 

They all ended up crammed onto the Treble bus. Bumper tried to start something. "So, Bellums. What boring set have you prepared for us this evening?"

"Excuse me? But you girls are gonna get pitch-slapped so hard," Adam retorted.

Donna was beatboxing at the front of the bus as she drove, Link beside her. "Nine miles, guys," she called out.

 

\-----

 

At the Semis, the Bellums were panicking as they watched the stage. "Where'd he come from?" Stanley demanded, gesturing to the stage.

"It's over." Fat Adam was pacing. "There's no _way_ we can beat the Footnotes and the Trebles."

The Footnotes exited the stage to vigorous applause. Aubrey said, "Aca-huddle. Now." They gathered around. "The top two teams go to Finals, so we just have to beat one of them. And if we do it exactly as we rehearsed, we will get there, okay? Exactly."

They didn't even attempt a show circle, just taking the stage. Beckham felt the judges yawn as they started the same set as before. So he took a chance. " _This_ _time_ , baby, _I'll be_ _bulletproof_."

Aubrey gave him a look that could shatter glass, but he continued. " _This_ _time_ , _maybe_ , _I'll be_ _bulletproof_. _Bulletproof_. _Bulletproof_."

As soon as they were offstage, Aubrey ripped Beckham a new one. "What the _fuck_ , Beckham?! Were you _trying_ to screw us up?!"

"Are you serious?" Beckham said incredulously.

"Newsflash. This isn't the Beckham show!"

"Okay, I'm sorry that I messed you up, but in case you hadn't noticed, everybody pretty much dozed off during our set!"

"It's not your job to decide what we do and when we do it!" Aubrey folded his arms. "Why don't you ask the rest of the group how they felt about your little improvisation?"

They all looked around guiltily, not wanting to be the one to say it. "Adam?" Beckham prompted quietly.

"It was cool." However, when he saw Aubrey's face, he tacked on, "But it did take us a little bit by surprise."

"Yeah, a lot by surprise!" Aubrey said, his voice raising.

Adam hemmed and hawed. "A little."

Aubrey adjusted his blazer. "I told you he wasn't a Bellum."

"Aubrey, don't," Cole interjected.

"No, that's okay," Beckham said brazenly. "You don't have to pretend you're allowed to have a say in the group, right?"

Cole looked at him in surprise. Aubrey was set off. "Your attitude sucks. You're a grade-A pain in my ass, and I know you're hooking up with Jessie!"

"Whoa, whoa, Aubrey, calm down. We're not hooking up, I swear." Jessie appeared with the Trebles, preparing to take the stage.

"Jesus fucking Christ, that perfect! Of course you're here right now!" Beckham yelled. "I don't need your help, okay? Can you back off?!"

Jessie's expression was wounded, but she left with the other Trebles. Beckham whirled back to the Bellums, blood boiling. "This is what I get for trying to help you! And newsflash, motherfuckers, turns out I'm _gay as hell_! So back the _fuck_ off about Jessie!" He stormed off.

"Aubrey, it actually went really well," Cole tried.

"Cole, stop!" Aubrey yelled at him. "Stop defending him!"

 

\-----

 

The Bellums lost. Beckham wasn't surprised, but it still hurt a little. He hadn't talked with the other boys since he'd stormed away after their performance. He regretted yelling at Jessie, and sort of regretted his pissed-off, rage-fueled coming out to the group.

Over spring break, Beckham threw himself into his mixes and the radio station. He needed to drown out everything he was feeling, and music did just that. One night, on impulse, he picked up _The_ _Breakfast_ _Club_ from the radio station, bringing it back to his dorm to watch on his laptop. It reminded him of Jessie.

To his immense surprise and (sort of) dismay, he found himself sobbing at the ending. He actually had to pause the end credits to wipe the tears from his face. "Oh my god."

He was crying at a movie he'd watched the entirety of, and he missed Jessie. He missed his best friend.

 

\-----

 

While he was absorbed into his high-intensity yoga workout, Aubrey received a phone call. "This is Aubrey Posen." He paused, listening to the voice on the other end, grin spreading across his face. "Yes, thank you, sir. I look forward to seeing you again at Lincoln Center." He hung up. "Yes!"

The Bellums were back in the competition!

 

\-----

 

Sitting in a hospital bed, Cole received the text from Aubrey. He mouthed exclamations despite the fact that he had no voice from his surgery. They were back!

 

\-----

 

Fat Adam was lounging by the pool when he got the call. "Ah. Aubrey?" He sat up straighter in the water.

 

\-----

 

Beckham was putting together a new mix when his phone chimed. He checked it, reading the text. They weren't finished.

 

\-----

 

Everyone cheered when they got to practice after Spring Break. "Okay!" Aubrey announced. "The aca-gods have looked down on us and they have given us a second chance!" He started passing out papers.

Cole joined them, a bit late. "I texted Beckham."   
  
"You did what?" Aubrey demanded.

"He makes us better," Cole said simply.

"That's not an opinion for you to have, Cole."

Cole put his hands on his hips. "Why? Because it's not yours?" he said in an even tone. "You're not always right, you know."

"We will win without him." Aubrey handed Cole the papers.

Meanwhile, Beckham knocked on Jessie's door. "Jessie, I know you're in there. I can smell popcorn." Jessie didn't answer. "Jessie, c'mon, open up."

Jessie climbed off her bed, setting her laptop aside. She opened the door.   
  
Suddenly, Beckham wasn't as confident. "Hey. I tried to call you. I left you a bunch of messages."

"Yeah, I got them."

Beckham swallowed his pride. "I'm sorry that we fought. I was mad, and I overreacted, and I'm just...Aubrey makes me crazy."

"Seriously?" Jessie crossed her arms. "You think I'm mad because you yelled at me?"

"No, I know..."

"No, you don't. You think you know, but you don't. You push away anyone who could possibly care about you. Why is that?"

Beckham scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Jess, I'm not attracted to you like that."

She snorted in frustration. "Not even like that. Anyone who could care about you on any level, even a friend."

"I don't know," Beckham said quietly.

"Well, you better figure it out, because I'm done with...whatever this is."

"Jessie..."

"I'm done." She shut the door, leaving Beckham there alone, definitely not blinking back tears of rejection from his only friend.

 

\-----

 

"Okay, what is happening to us?" Aubrey demanded. "Cole, you sound like you smoke three packs a day! Stanley, you are so behind on choreography. And Jared and Ashton, it's like you haven't been here all year long!"

"Aubrey really?" Jared exclaimed.

"We've literally been here the whole time," Ashton added.

"Aubrey, please just give us a break," Fat Adam pleaded. "It's kind of not the same without everyone here."

"We need Beckham," Cyrus stated bluntly.

"Maybe if Aubrey loosened the reins a little bit."

"Okay, shut it Cole!" Aubrey exclaimed.

"Whoa," Stanley said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude," Aubrey said a a faux-polite tone. "Cole, can you please get your head out of Beckham's ass? It's not a hat."

Cole gasped. The rest of the group was stunned. "Aca-awkward," Fat Adam mumbled.

"Again!" Aubrey demanded.

 

\-----

 

After a brief but heartfelt talk with his father, Beckham knew he had to make things right. With the Bellums, and with Jessie. So he headed to the auditorium for practice, to apologize.

 

\-----

 

"I have been there for you for so many years, and all you do is treat me like shit!" Cole yelled at Aubrey.

"All right, no, just shut up! Everyone!" Fat Adam yelled. "Come on, I joined this group so I could hang out with a bunch of really cool dudes. And also 'cause I was really sick of all my girlfriends and I need to get away from that. But this is some serious horseshit. What's that smell? Stinks everywhere. I don't wanna be like the old Bellums!"

"Yeah, I wanna be how we are now," Cyrus added.

"Me, too," Link said, almost inaudibly.

"We should have listened to Beckham," Cole threw at Aubrey.

"Oh, so it's my fault?" Aubrey demanded. "That I'm not like your man-crush?"

"That's not what I'm saying!"

"No, no, no, that's what you're all thinking, isn't it? That I'm the jerk! I am the boy obsessed with winning!"

"Aubrey, you're too controlling and it's gonna ruin all of us."

"You know what? I can lose control if I want to!" Aubrey shouted. "I can let go! And this time I'm not gonna choke it down!"

The rest of the Bellums looked confused. Aubrey started gagging, then projectile vomited everywhere.

Cole clapped sarcastically. "C'mon, bring it! You can do better than that! That's all you've got?!"

"Enough, enough!" Fat Adam screamed, climbing the seats with the others to escape the cascade of puke.

"We could have been champions!" Cole shouted, charging at Aubrey. "Give me the pitch pipe, you dick! Give it to me!"

Fat Adam and Cole fought Aubrey for the pitch pipe. It flew out of his hand, and they all dove for it.

"Move, you jerk-offs!" Fat Adam screamed, jumping on them in an attempt to grab the pitch pipe.

Beckham walked in to the Bellums in complete chaos. Cole, Aubrey, and Fat Adam were wrestling in the floor, screaming. Link was laying in the floor, frozen in a puddle of vomit. Cyrus was trying to reach for Stanley, who was blowing a whistle.

"Guys! Guys, stop, what is going on?!"

Everyone froze, and Aubrey took that chance to grab the pitch pipe, scrambling to his feet. "Nothing. Nothing. This is a Bellums rehearsal."

"I know. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." Beckham advanced slowly. "What I did was a really dick move and I shouldn't have chased the set without asking you guys. And I definitely shouldn't have left. I let you guys down and I'm really sorry." He paused, studying their expressions. "And...Aubrey, if you would have me, I want back in."

Everyone, especially Cole, looked at Aubrey expectantly. His expression was stony.

Beckham finally grabbed the chair by the piano, looking back at Aubrey as he did so, dragging it towards the exit.

Cole's expression towards Aubrey was cold, his arms crossed.

Beckham looked back and paused a few times, but kept going forward. Finally, just before he hit the edge, Aubrey called, "Wait."

Beckham dropped the chair. "Thank you. That would have been embarrassing."

"Beckham, I know that I've been hard on you, okay? I know that I have been hard on everyone here. But I am my father's son." His voice broke. "And he always said, 'If at first you don't succeed, pack your bags.'" He looked like he wanted to cry.

"Wow," Fat Adam whispered.

"That's really crazy," Cole muttered.

"I get it. Mine gets on me too, not like that, but...I guess we really don't know that much about each other. About most of you, really."

"Well, I'll confess something that none of you know about me," Stanley said. "I have a lot of sex."

"Yeah, we know, Stanley," Fat Adam said.

"Only because I just told you," he defended.

"This is a good idea," Beckham piped up. "That was a pretty bad example, but this is a good idea. Why don't we all go around the room, and we can all say something about ourselves that nobody else knows."

Cyrus raised his hand, standing. "Okay, I got something. This is hard for me to admit to you guys."

"I think we all know where this is going," Fat Adam mumbled. "Let's be honest."

"Well, for the past two years, I've had a serious gambling problem."

"What?" they all said in unison, confused.

"It started when I broke up with my boyfriend."

"Whomp! There it is!" Fat Adam sing-songed quietly.

Cyrus gave him a look. "Anyone else?" Beckham asked.

Link tried to say something, but no one heard him. "Okay," Beckham said. "Um. Fat Adam?"

"I'm an open book. I mean, you guys all call me Fat Adam. See, I guess I'm just not really living if I'm not being 100% honest. And my real name is Fat Patrick."

"Okay. I guess you all know what I would have said," Beckham said nervously. "Well, I kinda regret that rage-filled, screaming-match coming out. Also....I guess I've never really had this many friends before. And I do now. And that's pretty cool. So that's me. Someone else please go."

Cole braced himself. "Okay." He stood. "Over spring break, I made the courageous decision to remove my nodes." Aubrey gasped. "I know," Cole continued. "The doctor said that I can't sing as high as I once did, maybe ever." He started to choke up. "I thought the season was over."

Aubrey reached out to his friend. "It's okay. It's okay." Then he stood. "Beckham. What do we do?"

Beckham rose with him, startled at his words. Aubrey tossed him the pitch pipe, but he fumbled it, and it went rolling into the puke puddle. "I'm sorry," Aubrey muttered.

"Maybe not here," Beckham said, pointing to the puddle.

They made their way out to the same drained pool where the Riff-Off had been held because of it's incredible acoustics. "All right. Let's remix this business. Aubrey, would you pick a song for us please?"

"Bruno Mars, _Just The Way You Are_."

"Okay. Cole, are you okay to take the lead?"

Cole nodded. "Yeah."

Beckham started them off, beginning a rhythm. The other followed his lead. Cole came in at the perfect moment. " _Oh, her eyes, her eyes, make the stars look like they're not shinin'. Her hair, her hair, falls perfectly without her trying. She's so beautiful. And I tell her every day_."

Beckham jumped in with a mash-up. " _I was thinking 'bout her, thinkin' 'bout me, thinkin' 'bout us, what we gonna be, opened my eyes, it was only just a dream.....It was only just a dream_."

Cole had continued on with his melody at the same time, the two songs twining together wonderfully, complimenting each other. Soon, everyone was into it, clapping along, grinning as they sang. Beckham and Cole locked eyes, Cole's eyes sparkling with something Beckham didn't recognize.

When the song ended, they were all silent for a moment. "Hands in," Aubrey said with a smile.

All together, they said, "One, two.... _ah_!" They mastered it perfectly, except for one extremely low tone.

Cole slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. "What was that?" Fat Adam inquired.

"I don't know, I've never made that sound before," Cole said, puzzled.

"Yo, but with your messed up vocal cords, you could hit the bass notes!" Cyrus exclaimed.

"Do you know what that means?" Aubrey said.

Link raised his hand.   
  
"Yes, Link?" Beckham said.

He grinned. "I think I have something that can help us out," he said, audibly, for the first time.

"Excuse me, dude, you don't need to shout," Fat Adam teased.

"Okay, don't get mouthy," Link joked right back.

Beckham felt the weight lift off his shoulders. They were going to be all right.

 

\-----

 

The Bellums entered the Finals, seeing the Treblemakers. "Hey," Beckham said softly, spotting Jessie.

"Hey," she said, cautiously.

"Good luck," Beckham offered.

Jessie was silent for a moment. "Thanks. You, too." Then she was running onstage.

Beckham smiled faintly as she soloed, nodding as she hit everything perfectly. Bella was phenomenal, and Donna rapped perfectly. The Treblemakers were good, even without Bumper.

Then it was the Bellums' turn. Beckham turned to the rest of the group. "I love you, awesome nerds," he said as a pep talk with a smile.

"Yeah, you guys are the best," Fat Adam added. "Even though some of you are pretty thin, I think that you all have fat hearts, and that's what matters. Okay, let's just smash this. Okay?"

The Bellums took the stage, dressed coordinated but differently. Beckham knew Jessie was watching, but shoved down his nerves. He could do this. He blew the pitch pipe, then counted off. "One, two, three, four."

They started off slowly, beginning Price Tag with Aubrey and Cole. Then it was Link's turn, and the audience went wild. Cyrus took over confidently, and Beckham was having the time of his life.

He took a deep breath as the tune changed, and suddenly it was his turn. " _Hey, hey, hey, hey. Won't you come see about me? I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby_." He saw Jessie slowly look up at him from the audience, disbelief written on her face. " _Tell me your troubles and doubts. Giving me everything, inside and out. Don't you forget about me_."

Jessie smiled and raised a fist in the air, a symbol of the movie. Beckham grinned.

The crowd freaked out even more when they launched into _Give Me Everything_ , with Cole nailing the bass notes. Cyrus hit every word of the rap perfectly. Fat Adam was rocking the verse, and Beckham chimed in with, " _Don't you....forget about me!_ "

The audience was screaming, cheering wildly as they danced, volume raising impossibly louder as Stanley hit the splits and they finished triumphantly.

They left the stage, feeling like they were on cloud nine. Everyone started hugging each other, and as Beckham went to hug Cole, high on adrenaline, he kissed him. The Bellums _ooh_ ed.

In response, Cole wrapped his arms around Beckham and dipped him, keeping their lips locked. Once they separated, Cole panted, "I've been flirting with you since day one."

"Dude, give me a break. I didn't even have my gay revelation until right before Regionals." But Beckham was grinning.

Cole smiled, kissing him again. "Let's go, awesome nerd," he teased, taking Beckham's hand.

They made their way to their seats, heading to where the Trebles were. Beckham let go of Cole's hand to hug Jessie as she whispered to him, "Told you. The endings are the best part."

"You're such a weirdo," he muttered into her shoulder. They separated, and Cole took his hand again.

Jessie wiggled her eyebrows at them. "Finally got it together?"

"What? You knew?"

"You had a gay-crisis look when I tried to kiss you, Beck. Of course I knew. Plus, you and Cole have crazy sexual tension."

"I don't even know how to respond to that," Beckham replied.

Jessie punched his shoulder. "Don't worry. We're besties again. Just keep the PDA to a minimum. No one wants to see too much making out. My eyes will bleed."

Beckham grinned. "I can deal with that." All in all, he was the happiest he'd ever been. He had a bunch of friends, a best friend, and a boyfriend. Along with a Nationals trophy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of 20gayteen


End file.
